Things That Go Bump in the Night
by Ms-Maggs
Summary: This is a one shot written in response to the ‘Subtext is Everything’ October prompt challenge 'Things That Go Bump in the Night'.  It's a Greg Sanders character piece discussing his life from childhood until present. Contains slash references.


**Things That Go Bump in the Night**

**By: MsMaggs**

**AN: **This was written in response to the 'Subtext is Everything' October prompt challenge…

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Things that go bump in the night used to keep me awake as a child. I would hear noises in the hallway and see shadows in the corner of my bedroom. Whenever I screamed, it was always Papa Olaf who came running. My mother insisted my grandparents move in with us when I was seven, because Nana Olaf's rheumatoid arthritis had become debilitating and Papa was never much of a cook or a housekeeper. Being an only child, I was thrilled with the decision. Finally I wasn't alone in the house with parents. Not that my parents weren't cool, they were, it was just nice to have someone around, especially in the room next door. 

My parents had a master suite on the second floor of our modest California home. Well, it was modest by California standards, but to someone living in rural Kansas I suppose it would have looked like a mansion. My room was on the first floor along with two other bedrooms. My three sisters would have occupied those rooms if they had been born alive. I wasn't supposed to know about my dead sisters, but one night when I should have sleeping, I overheard my mother mourning their loss. Every night after that, I thought their ghosts were making things go bump in the night as they were trying to play with me and the toys we would have shared.

By the time I got to 7th grade I knew my dead baby sisters weren't making noise or shadows on the wall. All my childhood fears had been firmly replaced with teen angst and my biggest worry was not fitting in with the other students at my prestigious prep school. Unlike most of the kids who were there because their parents had money or fame, I was attending on a full academic scholarship. Most of the guys were athletic and rich and most of the girls were rich and gorgeous. I was the big exception - a geek with acne, untamable hair, and five bucks to his name. To say I didn't fit in was an understatement.

My parents sensing I was miserable at the aloof prep school for the vapid, researched and found a high school that catered to science nerds. So, after two miserable years, I landed in nirvana – Carson Academy, a safe haven for a dork with straight A's. My fears over fitting in were a thing of the past. Everyone at Carson was smart and quirky…and a whole new batch of fears were born. Suddenly I wasn't the smartest guy on campus, I was average! And the classes weren't easy, they were challenging. My freshmen year I spent many nights studying until two a.m, so I wouldn't get my first B. By my senior year, I was obsessed with keeping my 4.0 average and receiving the school's one and only full academic scholarship. The night I was named valedictorian and handed the Carson Award for Academic excellence I thought my fearful days were over. I was going to Stanford, the school of my choice, without paying a cent. My family was thrilled. My dad said he was proud and my mom and my Nana Olaf cried. We all knew Papa Olaf was looking down with a smile.

A smile was exactly what I wore to my first class at Stanford…within seconds it faded. At Carson I was the smartest guy on campus, but at Stanford I suddenly found myself just one of many geniuses looking to change the world, one science experiment at a time. I got that first B I had feared my whole life. Much to my surprise, the world didn't come crashing down. While in the throes of academic stress, a new worry took me by surprise – could I be bisexual?

His name was Ted Rus and when he sat next to me in Organic Chem one Tuesday afternoon and smiled in my direction, I felt a tingle that I had only experienced when kissing Tammy Wells and Staci Bularski. Being a scientist, I felt compelled to investigate my theory, so when Ted invited me to his room to study one night, I jumped at the chance. When I arrived at his door, he said his room mate was gone for the weekend, and that we had all night if we needed it. Five minutes after arriving I got the confirmation I had been seeking. Ted lounged on his bed and asked if I wanted to study or fool around first. I laughed, realizing that Ted had figured out that I liked boys well before I did. Being the dork that I always was, still am, I told him I had never even kissed another guy. He remedied the situation immediately and then rocked my world with a BJ that made Staci Bularski's best efforts seem comical. By the time I left Ted's dorm room, twelve hours later, I had lost my backdoor virginity and any doubts about my bisexuality.

After sleeping with Ted I assumed we were a couple, but when I saw him kissing Kip Willis the next day, I realized I was wrong. "I thought it meant something", I said with tears in my eyes. He laughed his reply "Shit, Sanders, if you believe that, you have a lot more to learn then how to swallow. No, it didn't mean we're a couple. It didn't mean anything." New fears emerged as I walked away crying. Would I ever find someone who loved me? Was I destined to spend my life alone forever?

Four years after my first homosexual experience I found myself living in Las Vegas and deeply in love with Sara Sidle. After ping-ponging between guys and girls at Stanford, I was certain that the love of a good, strong woman was just what I needed. Unfortunately for me, Sara had her heart set on my boss, Gil Grissom, and nothing I did seemed to convince her she was making a mistake. I offered dinner, movies, my shoulder to cry on, but all she ever did was smile and say those dreaded words "you're such a good friend, Greg." Yeah, yeah, but good friends don't get to snuggle, bump parts, and wake up together. Even when Catherine blew up the lab all I got from Sara was a hug and a glimpse of her beautiful gap-toothed smile.

When the dating scene wasn't panning out in Vegas, I decided to focus on my career. I asked Grissom to let me train in the field and he obliged. Initially I think he obliged to get me off his back and prove how unfit I was for the job, but I didn't give up. Life as a DNA Tech was boring me to tears. I wanted to be out where the action was, or so I thought. The first time bullets whizzed over my head, I considered running back to my lab coat, but three minutes with Hodges renewed my desire for life beyond the Petri dish. As fearful as I was of the job, I wanted to be a CSI. I wanted to be a hero…like Nick.

Nick Stokes was the guy everyone wanted to be in high school…smart, funny, athletic and hot - a quadruple threat. The first day I met him I thought he was an ass. After being introduced to me, he and Warrick Brown walked away joking about the 'newest geek in the lab'. Many of my old fears resurfaced at LVPD – not being popular, not being the smartest, not getting laid. It took years for Nick to treat me like a friend and several more passed before he considered me a buddy. The first time he asked me to join him and Warrick at the diner, I almost shit my pants I was so excited. I tripped over my own feet racing to the door shrieking "yes!" I was so thrilled to be included, I spent the entire breakfast rambling and trying to be 'one of the boys'. I failed miserably and didn't think I'd get a second invite, but a week later the Texan was at my door asking again.

The day I became a CSI I thought my fears were finally behind me. I thought I had finally proven myself. I was one of the boys. I was solving cases. I was happy. Yeah, I was still lonely and Sara was still panting after Grissom, but life was good. Then one night, without warning, Nick was gone and all I could think was how awful life would be if he died. Was our last breakfast together at the diner yesterday? Was our last shared laugh that stupid joke Archie told us in the locker room? I didn't want to believe it could happen, but there we were watching Nick squirm in a coffin with a limited oxygen supply and death seemed like an inevitable conclusion.

I never should have underestimated Nick Stokes. I felt guilty for ever thinking he wouldn't make it. I should have had faith. I shouldn't have given into my fears. As I stood watching the EMTs load Nick into the ambulance I offered up a prayer of thanks even though I hadn't been to church since Nana Olaf's funeral and when Catherine and Warrick got to go along for the drive, I was jealous. I wanted to be the one holding my friend's hand. That's when I realized I wanted more than just friendship from my buddy. I loved him, and I wanted to be with him in every sense of the word.

Even though I promised myself I would bare my soul to Nick when I saw him, we ended up talking about The Simpsons, the lackluster hospital food, and the bitchy nurse who kept reminding me that visiting hours ended at 8pm. We laughed, we cried, but I couldn't do it. I was too scared to share my true feelings with a guy who I was 99 certain wasn't bisexual.

Nick came back to work a living legend, and life resumed as if nothing had changed. Technically nothing had changed since I was the only one who knew how I felt. Shifts came and went along with the seasons and the job I had once feared had become routine. My 32nd birthday came and went without much fanfare…a cake in the break room and a round of drinks on Nick for the gang. My parents sent the usual check and Hallmark card, out of habit I tacked it up on the fridge. Sara and Grissom had finally started screwing. They didn't announce it, but I overheard them talking one day. Everyone seemed to have someone except me and Nick. People speculated that he wasn't right since the abduction. I heard Kate from Evidence say to Callie in Ballistics that Nick had turned down Traci the new hottie in Records. Was I encouraged? Hell, yes. Did I do anything? Nope. As usual, I wussed out.

On and off for 32 years I had been scared of one thing or another, but it wasn't until I was being ripped from the safety of my Denali one night that I understood the true meaning of terror. Punch after punch, kick after kick, my fear of dying grew. Blood was all I could see or taste or feel…my blood. My life was being taken from me before I ever took a chance and lived it fully. I hated that. If I lived I vowed to embrace it and stop letting fear hold me back. I think God let me live through the beating just to see if I would chicken out.

It was Sara who rushed to my side. I couldn't see her, but I recognized her scent. I would have settled for anyone taking my hand, even Hodges, but it was nice to have calm, kind Sara whispering that everything would be okay. I believed her when she said it over and over in the ambulance and by my bedside in the hospital. Grissom took over for Sara after eight hours. He had supervisory obligations, but it was clear he was also there as a friend. I shared my fear of telling my mother about the incident and confessed she still believed I was a DNA Tech. We had a nice talk, the best we ever had. After thirty minutes, I asked my burning question "where is Nick? Is he coming to see me?" By that point my heart was breaking. If he felt anything for me, surely he would have been there by now. Then Grissom told me Nick had been working non-stop at the scene of the beating, that he had even punched someone out at the tape out of frustration. My battered and broken face hurt too much to smile, but I was grinning from ear to ear in my mind, because Nick l so obviously loved me. When the nurse came with my meds I told her I didn't need morphine, because I was high on life. Thankfully she gave me the morphine anyway.

When I woke up in my hospital bed later that night, Nick and Warrick were sitting in guest chairs at my side. They told me they had been there an hour and were determined to stay until I opened my eyes. I was little out of it, but could see that Warrick was wearing a grey jacket and Nick was wearing his love for me like a neon sign. I could tell my buddy wanted to say something significant, but couldn't in mixed company. So, instead of declaring our undying love for one another, we watched the news and bitched about the sheriff. Eventually Warrick's cell phone rang and halted our banter. As much as I hate Tina Brown, I loved her for calling her husband that night and screaming to get his ass home.

'That woman is such a bitch' were Nick's first post-Warrick words to me. It wasn't quite the 'I love you' that I was hoping for, but it warmed my heart just the same. Remembering my promise to live life boldly, I reached out with a trembling hand and gripped Nick's forearm. He responded by taking a seat on the edge of my hospital bed and smiling. I thanked him for coming to visit and for working so hard at the scene for me. I asked him if it was true that he decked a guy at the tape who was talking smack about me. My spirits soared when he replied "hell, yeah, I punched him, and I'd do it again 'cause that guy was prick", which I understood to mean 'I love you, Greg. Thank God you're alive so we can hook up and spend the rest of our lives together'.

Ten minutes after the Texan's indirect declaration of romantic intent, there was a shift change, and the new nurse for the night, Carmen, came into my room sans smile. While grumpily checking my vitals she asked Nick if he was my brother. When the answer was no, she informed him visiting hours were over except for immediate family. Since my pulse was being monitored constantly, I couldn't hide my anxiety over the terrible news. Without warning, my window of opportunity had slammed shut. I had broken my vow to grow a set of balls and stop letting fear rule life and Nick was about to walk out of my room without knowing how I truly felt.

Then, as I watched my heart rate climb on the monitor and braced for loneliness that night and forever, I heard Nick calmly say, 'I get to stay if I'm his partner though, right?' My pulse jumped ten numbers instantly and the rest of the scene played out like a movie…

"You mean like police partners?" the nurse queried while six more numbers flew by on my monitor.

"No, as in life partner."

Eight more numbers.

"Oh, you guys are gay," Carmen said, looking as though she had smelled bad cheese.

"Yeah," Nick answered while squeezing my hand. "We're gay."

Six numbers and rising.

"And I know this hospital doesn't discriminate," Nick confidently stated. "Am I right?"

Seven more.

"Yes. You can stay," the nurse grumbled on the way to the door. "But you can't sleep in the bed with him. That's what the guest chairs are for."

If my pulse hadn't been at a nice resting rate of 65 when it started to climb, I know the alarms would have been sounding.

"Ha!" Nick laughed when the nurse shut the door. "I knew that would work."

"Huh?" I remember thinking that maybe the medication had me delirious and he really hadn't used the 'G' word. But then Nick released my hand, reached for my glass of ice water and explained the method to his madness, 'I couldn't think of any other way she'd let me stay and I didn't want to go…because you looked upset about me goin'. I mean your pulse was notchin' and…were you upset about me goin'?' It was a delightfully cute ramble that either meant he loved me or was horribly embarrassed for using the 'G' word. Being a CSI, I looked for evidence to support either theory. My first clue was Nick's hands were shaking as he held my water glass. The second clue was him drinking the water himself instead of giving it to me. Clearly, he was scared and my hope for a happy ending returned for a vengeance.

"I didn't want you to go," I told him, pushing beyond the fear of rejection that had been bogging me down since roles were reversed and I was the one standing beside his hospital bed. From there I decided to confidently state what was on my mind, "I want you to stay tonight…and I want you to stay not tonight too, um…I mean…sorry, the meds have me a little…what I'm trying to say is…I wish that wasn't lie what you told the nurse. I wish we were gay, well, I am gay, bi actually, but I wish you were gay...with me...and I don't mean happy gay, I mean really gay. I'll shut up now." Okay, not confidently, but I did tell him how I felt. You probably want to know his reaction. You want to know if Nick Stokes, hardcore heterosexual ladies man stormed out of my room in disgust or if he confessed his closeted status and breathed a sigh of relief that I was queer too. Well, I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to let you wannabes play CSI and follow the clues.

I'm telling you this story in Maui.

I told it because I had ten minutes to kill.

I have a smile on my face.

I have a ring on my finger.

And every fear I once had about being alone is gone forever.

If you think Stokes stormed out of my room in a huff you better keep your day job.

That night in the hospital, Nick confessed he had been struggling with his sexuality for two decades. Like me he had a revelation after his near-death experience, but like me, fear kept him from embracing the truth. He said the moment after he punched the asshole at the scene he knew he loved me. He almost rushed to the hospital to tell me, but he thought the best way he could prove it was by working hard to gather evidence against the thugs who hurt me. He held my hand. He ran his fingers through my hair. And when he was certain Nurse Cranky was on her break, he kissed me…a soft, gentle brush over my battered lips. Even though they still looked swollen and busted afterwards, my lips and every part of me felt healed.

I stayed at his place upon leaving the hospital. After living alone for nine years it felt great to have someone around. Because of my injuries we could only snuggle, but the first night spent in the Texan's arms was pure bliss. As soon as I recovered completely, we drove to Flagstaff and made up for lost time. Nick exceeded every expectation I had of him as a lover. We spent so much time between the sheets, the only scenery I recall was from the window of the cabin we had rented.

Six months later, we found ourselves standing besides Sara's hospital bed, both crying that we had almost lost a best friend. It was then that we realized what we had was forever and as soon as the vacation calendar allowed, we flew to Maui to get hitched. It was a simple sunset ceremony at my parents' retirement home. We wore jeans and white shirts, and went barefoot. Nick's conservative parents boycotted the event, but three of his sisters came and two of his cousins. He's saying goodbye to them right now, and then we're off on our honeymoon. We have a reservation at the Westin, room 632.

If you happen to be staying in 630 or 634 and you hear something go bump in the night…it's just the two deliriously happy guys next door.

Aloha

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**AN: **

After writing CSI fic for 3 years, that was my first one shot **ever!** LOL I sat down and wrote it without stopping to decompress after a stressful week. Because it was written for fun, and not planned, it's un-beta'd so blame only me if you find a typo.

I hope it made someone smile other than me :

**Mahalo,  
Maggs **


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